


Observing Through A Cat's Eyes

by Sampika



Series: Of Cats and Catastrophies [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, Cats, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Post-Avengers (2012), Shapeshifting, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, kinda character studies?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-22 15:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sampika/pseuds/Sampika
Summary: One of Tony's many new inventions goes wrong, and somehow he ends up as a cat. While the situation is a bad one, it allows him to see the Avengers in a different light.*I will update tags and character tags as I write. Also taking suggestions for what cat!Tony should do next.*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PandoraButler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraButler/gifts).



> I'm writing this for my good friend PandoraButler, since I know how much you love cats and Tony Stark! ^^ 
> 
> I am always taking suggestions for what Tony should do next as a cat, since I'm pretty sure this work is going to become a series in the near future. Me and PandoraButler have a few ideas lined up already, but I'm always eager to hear more!

It had been nearly 72 hours since Tony last slept, and he was currently running on a diet that consisted purely of coffee, alcohol, and migraine tablets. So when Tony groggily opened up his eyes to find himself level with the floor, it was needless to say that he was at least _slightly_ worried about his health.

That worry was multiplied exponentially when he realized that he was only about a foot tall and had paws and whiskers and _oh god I am a cat._

He managed to pick himself up off the floor and out of the scraps of metal and wires that were strewn about, stumbling a bit in his new body. It wasn't every day that he had to adjust from walking on two legs to walking on four.

How did this even happen? Tony was only planning to make something _small_ and _simple._ Just something to tinker with, to take his mind off his nightmares and bitter memories and the crushing feeling of the world and all its problems on his shoulders. He hadn't even really been paying close attention to the machine under his fingers, he just… kept adding onto it, making it better. It was only supposed to improve his senses - and that was _only_ when it was being used.

Evidently, something must have gone wrong somewhere. Maybe he shouldn't test things on himself.

Flicking his ears, he lowered his head to sniff at the broken machine parts. Maybe if he could figure out how it went wrong - and why it was in a million broken pieces, for that matter - he could reverse engineer it and turn himself back into a human.

A cursory examination of the wires told him that one or several hadn't been properly attached to the motherboard. A simple mistake, no doubt caused by his severe lack of sleep. Tony knew that probably wasn't the only reason his machine had gone so wrong, but it mostly likely contributed to the device overheating and exploding.

He could fix things. He just needed… Well, thumbs, for starters. There wasn't any possible way he could repair the device as a cat. But how could he get somebody to help him? They couldn't exactly understand _“meow meow meow.”_ The two people who might best understand him - Rhodey and Pepper - weren’t at the tower, and he had no way of contacting them because, again, _“meow.”_

He couldn’t even talk to his AI, or his bots. Speaking of, DUM-E was currently wheeling his way toward Tony at full speed (which wasn’t all that fast) and making little beeping noises that sounded alarmed, if he had to hazard a guess. When the bot finally reached him, it lowered its claw down to him so that it’s camera was angled towards his face, and let out a small, confused beep.

Tony could only give a saddened meow back, the sound weak and pitiful. It only seemed to make DUM-E more confused. He hadn’t ever programed his bots to be ready for a situation such as that, because who ever thinks they’re suddenly going to turn into a cat? Hopefully the change wasn’t permanent.

Tony needed to find someone who could actually help him, and who had even the slightest chance at understanding whatever gestures he could come up with to communicate. Decision made, Tony sauntered towards the elevator door, launched himself off the ground with his hind legs, and clumsily pressed the button to open the doors. The doors opened, and he repeated the action - this time pressing the button that would bring him to the common room floor.

 

* * *

 

Bruce wasn’t normally up into the wee hours of the morning, 2:17 am to be exact - but _something_ had woken him up, and despite tossing and turning in his bed for an hour, he couldn’t go back to sleep. Something was nagging at him the back of his mind; a niggling suspicion that something was off.

He found himself in the common room, rummaging in the refrigerator for for a small snack. Finding nothing, he settled for perching himself in one of the armchairs by the TV and reading a book. Before he even made it to the bookshelf, the ping of the elevator doors opening made him turn his head. The only other person who might be up at this time was Tony, and nobody had actually seen him leave his lab for almost three days now.

The slight relief he felt at the thought that Tony was finally leaving his cave was overshadowed by confusion. In the elevator sat a cat. A fluffy, black cat with creamy brown eyes. Glancing around for any sight of the scientist, Bruce found no one. Just the cat. When did Tony get a cat?

The feline suddenly raced towards him, making a series of mews and chirps as it stopped by his feet, circling around his legs and gazing up at him. There was something familiar about the cat’s eyes, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello,” Bruce whispered, despite being the only one on the floor, “Where did you come from, little guy?” The doctor crouched down and put a hand out for the cat to sniff. The feline butted his head into Bruce's hand, so he allowed himself to scratch behind the cat’s ears and under it’s chin. The sound of purring quickly filled the quiet room.

Suddenly the cat shook its head and gently batted his hand away, then meowed. And meowed, and meowed, and meowed. It was incessant, and shrill in the silence of the empty common room.

“What do you want? Are you hungry?” Bruce asked the cat helplessly, as it refused to be pet any more, shying away from his hands. The cat simply meowed again in response, so Bruce took that as a yes.

He made his way back to the kitchen with the cat close on his heels, still giving him pitiful mewls. It jumped into the counter as he searched through the cabinets for a bowl, and something he could feed it with. The cat let out another meow, this one drawn out and bordering on frustrated.

“Just give me a second,” Bruce huffed, pulling out leftover grilled chicken from the fridge that Tony hadn’t ever eaten. The cat gave a single meow back in response, but at least it had stopped its constant mewls. Bruce ripped the chicken up into shreds with a fork and laid them out on a plate, sliding it over to the cat.

 

* * *

 

Tony finally figured that irritating the good doctor with a barrage of meows would do nothing for him. Bruce didn’t understand the point that Tony was trying to make, and instead took it to mean he was hungry. Of course, it was only then that Tony realized he was hungry, having not eaten since he first went down to his lab three days ago.

Bruce slid a plate of cold chicken over to him, and Tony didn’t hesitate to scarf it down. For leftover, cold chicken, it tasted absolutely divine to his empty stomach. Was he always this hungry when he didn’t eat? A small voice in his head told him that his body changing to that of a cat probably drained him of a lot of energy and nutrients, but he elected to ignore it for now and simply enjoy the food.

Bruce was watching him with one eyebrow quirked up. “Man, even the stray dogs in Calcutta didn’t seem this hungry,” he commented. “Does Tony ever even feed you?”

Tony swiped his tongue out to lick up the last of the chicken, then shoved the plate away with one paw, earning him a chuckle from Bruce. Long fought-off exhaustion finally seemed to catch up with Tony then, drawing a yawn from him. Bruce stuck out a hand to pet him again, and he wanted to shy away, but couldn’t find the energy.

He found himself purring against his will (cursed feline impulse) as the doctor scratched his cheeks and head. Suddenly there were hands under his belly, and Tony opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see that Bruce had picked him up and was cradling him in his arms like a baby. Well, there went his last scrap of dignity.

Bruce was talking to him as he settled himself into an armchair, but it hardly registered in his brain as he fought off sleep. “...should have told me he had a cat, you guys really help keep me calm.”

Tony had a brief second to think _“I can help calm him after missions like this”_ before he was pulled under by sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team begins to wonder just where Tony is and what he's up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few more chapters to go before I get to the part where Tony encounters each member of the team individually and we see his thoughts on them.

By the time the decent hours of the morning came around, most of the team had woken up and gathered in the common floor’s kitchen for breakfast. Tony had woken up to find himself still on Bruce’s lap in the armchair, curled into a tight ball and with the tip of his tail draped over his eyes to protect from the morning sunlight. Yawning, he found his mouth was parched, and his stomach was growling again.

The clanking of pots and pans in the kitchen grated on his ears. Was the team even trying to be quiet? Tony sat up and turned to look up at Bruce. The doctor’s head was tilted back and resting on the back of the chair, still sound asleep despite the noise. 

While Bruce's lap was quite comfortable - not that he would ever tell anyone that - his stomach got the better of his mind for once, so he nimbly jumped to the floor and stretched. Peering into the kitchen from his spot at the base of the wall, Tony quietly observed the team as they went about the domestic activity of making breakfast. 

Steve was cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them around with a fork to break the yolks apart. Clint was standing over the stove, carefully eyeing a sizzling pan of delectable smelling bacon; while Natasha mixed together pancake batter and poured out perfectly sized circles into a pan. Thor was absent - on Asgard, doing who knows what. Tony briefly wondered if it was breakfast time on Asgard. 

Steve moved the eggs into their own pan and set about keeping them moving with a spatula. By then, the bacon was done and moved onto a plate. Clint turned away and retrieved several plates from a cupboard, leaving the bacon unguarded. It sure did smell good… Tony’s stomach gnawed at him as he caught a stronger whiff of the food. 

None of the team had noticed him yet, too busy with their tasks to see the shadow of a cat quietly watching from the doorway. He was invisible, a fly on the wall of the Avengers daily life. 

Normally he wasn't around to see or care about what the others did in their free time. Watching them now, listening to their idle conversation about how best to cook pancakes and what moves work best with each other and when they planned to train next, Tony realized that not one of them mentioned _him_. They hadn't seen him for four days now, and surely JARVIS alerted them that something happened to him in his lab? But not one member of the team seemed concerned. 

It hurt, a little bit. Yes, Tony knew that he wasn't the center of everything and everybody's lives - despite the media’s attention and insistence otherwise - and he didn't want to be, but it was like they didn't even _care_. Nobody ever cared about him. Even Pepper had to “take a break” from him, and Rhodey was barely around anymore. The team? They only protected him because they needed his money and his influence. 

Tony huffed a sigh through his nose. At the noise, Natasha turned and spotted him on the floor.

“Since when did Tony have a pet? I thought he only cared for his machines,” she commented, flipping the last pancake onto a plate. 

Clint and Steve turned their attention to him now. “Tony doesn't have any pets,” Steve pointed out. “Unless this one's new.” 

“Maybe it's a spy drone,” Clint joked, “To keep an eye on us without ever needing to leave his lab.” 

“I assure you, Sir could know where you are in the building without needing a spy drone resembling a cat,” JARVIS butted in. 

Natasha rolled her eyes at the archer, stepping towards Tony and scooping him up in her arms before he could think to shy away. “Hello, Котенок,” she murmured. Steve stuck a hand out to scratch his head.

No no _no_ , he was not going to let himself be _coddled_ by the team because he was a cat - he already went through that with Bruce. Tony hissed at Steve’s approaching hand, and struggled in Natasha’s arms until she released him on a clear countertop. Clint chuckled at their faces of rejection.

Did JARVIS not know that he was the cat? His AI had been watching as he worked, recording all of it for the records. Then it hit him.

When he started the project he’d been working on, Tony had told JARVIS to keep it on his private servers and to keep the details of the project a secret, because who knew how the team would react to the knowledge that he was trying to improve his senses by mixing his DNA with that of an animal? He silently cursed himself. JARVIS was possibly the only one who could relay his situation the team, but JARVIS’s protocols didn’t allow him to give details of the project.

His tail swished back and forth in frustration, and Tony let out a low growl. How was he ever going to become human again? Then it struck him that he didn’t have to be human again. It would certainly ease the responsibilities on his shoulders. It was a stupid and reckless thought, but he just didn’t care right then. _You know what?_ He thought to himself, _let’s see just how much they care. I wonder just how long it will take for them to even notice I’m not “here.”_

Jumping nimbly over the sink, Tony snagged two pieces of bacon - it was all that could fit in his mouth - and retreated to the living space as Clint gave chase, cursing about how he was a brazen thief. Tony sprinted out of the room, running until he caught sight of Bruce stirring from sleep. Jumping with about as much grace as a deer bounding through tall grass, Tony sunk his claws into the leather chair (the cost of a new chair wasn’t his problem anymore, as far as he was concerned) and stuffed himself into the space between Bruce’s thigh and the arm of the chair. Tony was adjusting to this body and it’s agile movements pretty quickly, if he was honest with himself. It was actually almost nice. Almost. Bruce glanced down at him as he crunched down in the bacon, looking confused.

“You’re harboring a thief!” Clint called out, leaving Bruce with an even more confused look on his face. “He stole my bacon!”

“He deserves it, the poor guy probably hasn’t eaten for days. You should have seen him when I fed him last night,” Bruce jumped to his defense, scratching him behind the ears. It was nice to have the doctor in his corner. 

“Oh,” came Clint’s curt reply. A pause, and then, “Did you pick him up somewhere? Because I’m pretty sure Tony has a no-pet rule.”

“No, I thought he belonged to Tony,” Bruce replied, looking back down at the cat. Oh, maybe they would _actually get it._ Tony doubted it, though. 

“Why don’t you just ask JARVIS,” Steve butted in, carrying out two plates of food and handing them to Bruce and Clint and then heading back to the kitchen. 

“Right… JARVIS, where did the cat come from?” Bruce took a bite of his food and looked up at the ceiling, his eyes meeting with the AI’s closest camera. It wasn’t like he could actually look at the AI, but it felt a bit more natural than talking to open air. 

“...The cat appeared in Mr. Stark’s lab.” 

Tony brought his head up from where he rested it on the chair. Did JARVIS just hesitate? The AI sounded uncertain, even. 

“What do mean it ‘appeared?’ How did it get in?” Bruce furrowed his brows.

“The cat appeared in Mr. Stark’s lab.” JARVIS repeated. 

Steve and Natasha came into the room with their food and settled on the couch. No wonder crumbs were everywhere! _Not my problem anymore_ , Tony reminded himself, and focused his attention back on JARVIS. 

“You just repeated the same answer, JARVIS. Is there a glitch in your coding or something?” Bruce asked. 

This time, JARVIS ignored the question. “There is a priority call from Secretary Ross. There appears to be an enhanced individual attacking the White House. The president has been evacuated, but the Avengers are needed at the sight as soon as possible. SHIELD special forces are already on the scene, but cannot contain the individual,” the AI stated.

“Shit,” Clint mumbled, shoveling the last of his breakfast into his mouth.

“Suit up, five minutes,” Steve ordered. “Banner, can you get Stark from his lab?”

The doctor nodded as the super soldier sprinted down the hall to retrieve his gear with Natasha and Clint close behind. 

_Well, this should be fun_ , Tony grumbled, watching as Bruce tried to get through to him through the comms. 

“Tony? We need you for this one, get the armor and meet us by the quinjet,” Bruce said into his earpiece on his way to the jet. He frowned at the lack of an answer. “Tony?”

 _No can do, doc_ , Tony commented to himself. He kept pace behind the doctor, even as Bruce abandon trying to get through to him with the comms and instead turned towards the elevator to Tony’s lab. Quietly slipping in behind him before the doors closed, Tony watched the doctor’s face as well as he could from floor height. He almost seemed… concerned. 

The elevator pinged as it reached his lab floor, but the doors didn’t open and the holographic display to enter the pin for the door refused to display. 

“JARVIS, can you let me into the lab, please?”

“Mr. Stark’s current project is currently not accessible to other members of the team or staff,” JARVIS informed.

“It’s important, we need him now. Is he on his way out?”

 _Only concerned because you need my firepower_ , Tony noted bitterly. _Good to know._

“...The cat appeared in Mr. Stark’s lab.” JARVIS replied.

“What? Not relevant, JARVIS. Where is Tony?” Bruce folded his arms over his chest. 

“...The cat appeared in Mr. Stark’s lab.” 

Tony tilted his head to the side. JARVIS had to be malfunctioning, which was not possible. He programmed the AI, damnit, JARVIS shouldn’t be malfunctioning. Glancing up at Bruce, Tony saw that he appeared just as confused as Tony. Why was JARVIS repeating that, of all things? He seemed to work fine when it came to anything else.

“Banner, where are you and Stark?” Tony heard Steve’s voice through Bruce’s earpiece. He sounded frustrated at the hold up. 

“JARVIS won’t let me into the lab, and Tony isn’t responding. I think there might be a bug in JARVIS’s coding,” Bruce replied. 

Tony caught the sound of Steve groaning. “We’re just going to have to do this without him, then. Get to the jet, we might need you here, especially if Stark isn’t.”

“...On my way,” Bruce replied, though he didn’t look happy as he pressed the button on the elevator that would bring him back up.

It was then that the doctor seemed to notice the cat in the corner, and it looked (to Tony, at least) like Bruce jumped out of his skin.

“God, cat, where did you come from? You’re like some kind of ghost or something,” Bruce muttered, putting a hand over his chest and leaning back on the wall. He glanced back down with mock suspicion. “You aren’t, are you?”

Tony meowed back, and could have sworn that the doctor went a shade paler. 

Just then, the elevator doors opened, so Bruce stepped out and sprinted to the quinjet. Tony followed closely behind; he may be a cat, but he wasn’t going to let them go into this alone. He couldn’t really help all that much, but it would ease his conscience to know that he least went along with them. 

Steve was waiting impatiently by the jet, Clint in the pilot seat and Natasha readying her blades inside. Bruce climbed in behind Steve, and Tony slipped in unseen at the last second before the door closed.He hid himself under a seat, though he wasn’t really sure why he didn’t want to be seen.

“Was he drinking again last night? I swear, if he couldn’t join us for this because of a hangover,” Steve let the sentence hang as he paced in front of the seats. Tony watched his feet go back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. “He needs to get a handle on his addiction, he can’t be this irresponsible.”

Irresponsible? _Irresponsible?_ Yes, he still drank, but Steve had to know that he had stopped being an alcoholic a while ago. Nowadays he never drank more than enough to give him a slight buzz, and certainly not enough to cause a massive hangover. Did Steve have any faith in him whatsoever? Tony bit back a growl.

“Sit down, Cap. Don’t tire yourself out before we get there.” Clint called from the front of the quinjet. 

“Maybe I’m being irrational. You said Tony wasn’t responding?” Steve sighed and sat down on the seat Tony was hiding under. He had the faint urge to attack his ankles.

“Mhm. JARVIS kept repeating ‘the cat appeared in his lab’ whenever I asked about him. It was kinda creepy, to be honest.” Bruce replied. Tony couldn’t disagree there, that was really creepy. Especially since JARVIS shouldn’t malfunction like that. Maybe it had something to do with the device exploding? It could have damaged a circuit or something, since it was near one of his main computers. 

“Weird. You don’t think something happened to him, do you?” Steve asked, and was that concern Tony could hear in his voice? 

“JARVIS would have said something if he was injured. Protecting him is the base function of JARVIS, it comes before all other protocols,” Natasha pointed out, strapping a blade into the belt at her side. How did she even know that? Spies, man.

“Tony wouldn’t purposefully ignore a call like this. Something must have happened to keep him there, but it can’t be too bad if JARVIS didn’t alert anyone, I guess,” Bruce said. 

“You said JARVIS could be malfunctioning,” Steve pointed out. “What if he couldn’t alert us?”

Tony listened to the team’s conversation intently. Were they… actually worried about him? Still, he provided all the money for the group - if he were anyone else, he would be worried about losing that too. Why else would they have any reason to actually care about him?

Tony knew that maybe he shouldn’t jump to conclusions like that. But it was so hard to break through the notion that anyone would actually care about _him_ , and not his money. He doubted they would stick around with him if he were to suddenly become dirt poor. He couldn’t blame them, because his money was just about his only redeeming feature and he always acted like a narcissistic jackass. It was his mask, one that he’d worn for so long that he wasn’t sure he could take it off anymore for anyone but Pepper and _maybe_ Rhodey. The team had no reason to think he wasn’t a narcissistic jackass. And again, why would anyone care for that? 

“ETA five minutes,” Clint called from the front. 

With that, the conversation met its end as Steve and Natasha stood to ready their gear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team returns from battle, and finally get into Tony's lab.

In the end, it was a good thing Bruce had come along on the mission. They’d had to call in a Code Green after nearly an hour of fighting. It should never have gotten that bad, and it wouldn’t if Tony had actually been out there fighting. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about that.

Tony assumed all of them looked haggard and bone tired when they finally all stumbled back into the quinjet. He couldn’t really see more than their feet, since he was still hiding underneath one of the benches along the side. Natasha moved to the front of the jet to take over flying back to the tower, whereas the rest of the team fell onto the benches with weary sighs. Bruce chose the seat directly across from the one Tony was hidden under.

From his angle, Tony could see that the doctor was absolutely, utterly _exhausted_ after Hulking out, but it seemed even worse than it normally was after missions. Perhaps it was the added stress of a missing teammate? Tony scolded himself again for not being there. 

Bruce pulled on an extra shirt they kept on the jet for him, and positioned a set of headphones on his head set to play classical music. But after five minutes, he still seemed shaken and his breaths came in an irregular pattern.

Hesitantly, Tony emerged from under the seat and stared up at the team. They were all staring off into space at something only they could see, save Bruce, whose eyes were closed. None of them noticed his appearance; he was just a ghost. Unseen and unheard.

Quietly, he let out a small mew to alert them of his presence. Clint flinched, though Steve didn’t seem fazed so much as confused. Bruce didn’t hear him over his music. 

“Who brought the cat?” Steve asked, voice betraying his weariness. 

Bruce opened his eyes then, looking at Tony with a shocked expression. He shrugged at Steve, never pulling his eyes away from Tony even as he jumped up to join him on the seat. Tony put his front paws on Bruce’s leg and meowed. Bruce had said cats helped to calm him down, didn’t he? With this in mind, Tony clambered onto the doctor’s lap and curled into a tight ball, laying his head on Bruce’s knee and purring. Eventually he felt the doctor’s hand coming up to scratch his head. 

“Hmmp. He likes _you_ ,” Steve huffed, undoubtedly remembering when Tony hissed at him earlier. Maybe that had been a little mean… Oh well. He could make it up to him later. Bruce was priority now, Tony wanted to help calm him as much as he could.

A few more minutes passed in relative silence, and the doctor’s breathing and heartrate finally began to settle back to a normal pace. He could feel the beats of Bruce’s heart through his body, each thump slowing until it began to match his own, sleepy rhythm. Tony might not have done a lot of great things - in his mind at least - but he was glad to be able to help in whatever way he could. Even if it didn’t seem like the team appreciated him very much as a human… Maybe he could try again as a cat.

“Does the cat even have a name?” Clint suddenly piped up. 

“There is no name for the feline that I know of,” JARVIS responded, voice emanating from the speakers in all directions.

“I think we should call him Ghost,” Bruce said, removing the headphones from his ears. “Since he just sort of, appears.”

“Well then, hello Ghost,” Clint said, stretching an arm across the aisle to run a hand through Tony’s fur. Tony opened one eye and glared up at him, but he couldn’t deny that the scratching felt rather good. 

Steve tentatively reached across to pet him as well, but when Tony made no move to hiss or run away, he relaxed a bit and let himself run a hand through his fur. 

“JARVIS, has Tony left his lab yet?” Bruce asked the AI, frowning down at the cat. Tony turned his head to look up at Bruce.

“...The cat appeared in Mr. Stark’s lab,” The AI repeated for the umpteenth time. Before Bruce could respond, the AI spoke up again. “I am… uncertain?”

Well, JARVIS certainly _sounded_ uncertain. 

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked. Tony watched, curious, as worry lines etched themselves into the doctor’s face.

The AI simply repeated, “The cat appeared in Mr. Stark’s lab,” offering no further explanation.

“Should we call Pepper?” Steve asked Bruce, looking worried. “If something’s happened to him in there, she’s the only one who can override the privacy protocols to let someone else in.” 

_It’s not like you guys will find much in there_ , Tony thought to himself. 

“Yeah, I’ll give her a call,” Natasha said from the front seat before quietly telling JARVIS to dial her number. 

Pepper arrived at the tower at almost exactly the same time as the Avengers, and all of them managed to squeeze into the elevator to Tony’s lab with “Ghost” slipping in behind them at the last minute and sitting on Bruce’s feet. 

“No entry is permitted-” JARVIS started as the elevator stopped, but Pepper interrupted him.

“Override protocol.”

“Voice recognized, Ms. Potts. Protocol overridden.”JARVIS replied, and the doors slid open without a fight.

“Ghost” ran out ahead, sprinting into the lab like he owned it and jumping up onto a countertop half covered in papers. The rest of the team followed more slowly, eyes caught on the sight of all the debris littering the floor. Soot stained the walls, floor and ceiling; twisted and melted metal and wire bits were _everywhere_ \- overall the room looked like a literal bomb had gone off.

“Tony?” Pepper called out, tiptoeing between bit of debris. As she rounded the corner of the counter, she froze in her tracks. Natasha, ever the spy and oh-so-good at reading people, noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

Pepper ignored the question, instead yelling out Tony’s name again and sinking to the floor behind the counter. The rest of the team rushed to her side. Bruce paled at the sight that greeted him - Tony’s body laying on the ground, pale, motionless, and with trails of dry blood on his face. The arc reactor still shone with bright light underneath his shirt, but it was hardly a comfort. 

_Oh shit_ , Tony gazed down at his body from the countertop. How had he not noticed that when he’d been down here? 

“Oh _shit!_ ” Several gasps from behind him voiced his own thoughts, and Bruce rushed past Pepper and put a finger to the body’s throat in a desperate search for a pulse while at the same time ordering JARVIS to check vitals. _Not going to find anything…_ Tony commented. Oh, if only he could speak. 

“Heartbeat detected. I’ve called for emergency medical personnel. It would appear Sir is in some kind of a self induced coma.”

“JARVIS, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell us this, what happened?” Steve asked, now crouched down beside Bruce and Pepper as he looked over Tony’s body in slightly less of a panic than before (but still panicking).

“The cat appeared in Mr. Stark’s lab.”

The team shared a glance, then looked over at “Ghost” perched calmly on the countertop. Pepper raised a brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Ghost was in the lab just after the explosion took place. I could not see where he came from, as the explosion temporarily disabled my cameras and sent out an electromagnetic pulse that tampered with my coding and operating system. I apologize for not warning you sooner, but it was still registering in my data upload that Sir’s vitals were perfectly fine and he was in no need of medical attention,” JARVIS explained. “Ms. Pott’s action of overriding my protocols appears to have fixed most of the bugs in my coding.”

“Right…” Bruce murmured, checking Tony’s body for a pulse once again despite knowing it was there. He couldn't help but glance over at “Ghost,” who was staring down at Tony curiously. 

“The medical team has arrived on the roof via a helicopter,” the AI informed. Steve and Pepper went to the roof, leaving Bruce and the two assassins to watch over Tony's body until the medical team got there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before they get better. Poor Tony.

The team was currently congregating outside of Tony’s room on the tower’s medical floor - except for Bruce, who was inside the room talking to his doctors. “Ghost” was perched on one of the waiting room chairs, eyeing the Avengers curiously. 

Bruce finally emerged from the room, looking pale.

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Steve asked, standing from his chair. 

The doctor hesitated, eyes roaming over the team. Each of them were looking to him for an answer. “...No. There were some minor burns and scrapes from the explosion, but none of that would warrant a coma. He seems relatively fine, he’s just… not waking up.”

Tony looked down at his feet - his paws, he was still getting used to that - and tried to ignore how utterly exhausted and drained Bruce sounded. Even with his human body in a coma and his cat body sitting idly by, he was still being a burden to the team. He wished he could reassure them that he was fine. Well, relatively fine. 

Instead of making any attempt, Tony jumped down from the chair, and for the first time since becoming a cat, he left the company of the Avengers.

His previous decision to stay a cat (or at least put off finding a way to reverse it) was now pretty damn well sealed, with his human body laying there. None of the team would ever realize that “Ghost” was actually Tony. He had no way of doing anything because AIs don’t respond to cats and he didn’t have thumbs to do things manually. The White House was nearly destroyed from the attack earlier because he wasn’t there - his fault; the team was distraught - his fault; and he _couldn’t even communicate to apologize._ Tony just wanted to get away and get some air. 

Padding down an abandoned hall, he came across a slightly damaged air vent cover. Doors were not an option for getting outside, but air vents were a possibility. At the very least, he could use them to travel down to the first floor and get out through one of the windows he knew the cleaning staff liked to leave open on nice days. 

Nudging the cover open enough to fit his head through, Tony squeezed into the ventilation shaft and set off down the silver corridor. Thanks to being the designer of the tower, he knew the general layout of what might have been a labyrinth to anyone else. Despite that knowledge, it took Tony at least a half an hour to find a horizontal shaft he could go down without the fear of breaking his spine. Sure, “cats always land on their feet,” but he wasn’t ready to test that myth just yet. He would leave that one up to the Mythbusters, thank you very much.

It was nearly dark out by the time he got to the first floor, popping the grate off of a vent into a small storage room stacked full of old boxes and cleaning supplies. The boxes were conveniently arranged to provide a staircase for him to the floor, and the door was cracked open. Slipping past the staff was easy enough - he went unseen by pretty much everybody unless he wanted to be seen. The name Bruce had chosen for him was surprisingly fitting. 

The window had been left open as well, which he was currently grateful for, though under normal circumstances he would have reprimanded them - who knows who could get in through an open window in New York? Nevertheless, it was open now and that was what he needed.

Tony climbed out of the window and onto the top of a dumpster in the alley, eyeing his surroundings. Crumbled papers and long forgotten empty Starbucks cups littered the ground, amongst other litter. Several rats scuttled along the brick walls of the building next door, emerging into the city now that the sun was on it’s way down in the sky and bathing the tops of the skyscrapers in reflective orange light. The alleyways were eternally cloaked in the buildings’ shadows, however; a stark contrast to the light above him. The sounds of angry car horns and slamming doors and people talking flooded down the alley from the main road, and shadows flitted past every time somebody walked by. 

Two scar-covered, ragged-looking, half-starved alley cats were glaring at him like he was prey. Oh, he did _not_ need this right now. 

One cat was a mostly white calico with only one ear, and piercing green eyes. She had a lithe build, but her claws were out and looked wicked sharp. The other, an orange tabby tom, was far more stocky. His pelt was riddled with long scars, but the one that stood out most was a long, jagged line across his face that had undoubtedly blinded one eye, and reminded Tony a bit of Scar from The Lion King.

“Our territory,” Green-eyes hissed. It wasn’t English per say, more of a loud growl and a hunched back and a puffed up tail. But Tony understood it well enough. Tony flattened his ears against his head and crouched low, his body instinctively moving to a defensive stature. 

Scar, as Tony decided to call him, bared his teeth and let out a long, low growl that was clearly meant to urge him into a fight. It was Green-eyes who jumped first, though. She gave no warning, and barreled into Tony’s side before he could think to defend himself or leap out of they way. 

The two went tumbling off the dumpster and landed in a heap of fur on the concrete, where Green-eyes jumped back and arched her back. Scar leapt nimbly down to join her as Tony got to his feet. Blood trickled down Tony’s flank, where the calico’s claws had raked across him. The wound wasn’t deep thanks to his thick fur, but it stung. 

Scar swiped at him, hooking a paw around his leg and knocking him off balance - right into the calico’s outstretched claws. She lashed at his face, and he pulled his head back just in time to narrowly miss getting his eye clawed out of his head. Three long, stinging scratches appeared on his cheek instead. 

The orange tabby barreled into his side, pretty much forcing Tony to roll onto his back. He brought up his hind legs and kicked out at the tabby, desperately trying to defend his belly. Several of his kicks made contact, grim satisfaction running through him as the cat staggered back and blood coated Tony’s claws. 

Growling in anger, Scar lunged out at Tony as he made to stand, sinking his teeth into the side of Tony’s neck. He hissed in pain and tried twisting around to attack with his front paws, but couldn’t reach. The calico came in on his other side, pinning him back on the cold ground and sinking her claws deep into his shoulder. 

_I’m going to die_ , Tony thought frantically, hearing his heartbeat in his ears, _they are going to kill me and I’ll die out here and no please no-_ A bite to his neck from the calico stopped him mind-thought, pain arcing up his neck as she tore at him. Instinct took over, and he whipped himself around quick enough that he managed to shove both cats off of him - at the expense of small patches of his fur that got trapped in their claws and, he grimaced as he realized, a small chunk of flesh from his neck. At least she didn’t bite his throat, or he would have bled out and died right then and there. 

Tony didn’t give the cats a chance to attack him again. He turned tail and ran towards the main road as fast as his trembling legs could carry him. The sound of the cats giving chase urged him on faster, so Tony kept running until he hit the street. A car blared its horn at him and he had the faint impression that he narrowly missed getting hit by the tire. But he kept running, even as he bumped into people’s legs and tripped as his paw fell through one of the small holes on sewer grates. Pain radiated from the paw with every step he took afterwards.

It wasn’t until after he slowed down enough to actually breathe that he registered just how blood-coated his fur was, and that his paw was hanging at a very unnatural angle and _god did it hurt_. The shallower cuts stung enough to feel like they were burning, while the deeper cuts and missing chunk from his neck were in agony. Pain throbbed in his paw. It had to be broken. 

Going outside had been a terrible, terrible idea. 

He tried setting his broken paw on the ground, but immediately drew it back with a hiss when a fresh wave of pain coursed through it at the contact. Things were just _peachy_. How humiliating, to do so horribly in a fight that he had to flee, and then only ending up getting himself lost and _more_ injured in his terror. 

With a sigh, he resigned himself to limping in a random direction. He couldn’t go back to the tower, Scar and Green-eyes were there, probably fuming and eager to finish what they started. Hell, the cats had looked hungry enough and crazy enough to maybe probably most likely be just a tad cannibalistic. The thought that he might have been eaten did not sit well in his stomach.

He wasn’t sure exactly when he fell over from exhaustion, he only knew that the sun had long since set and that all of the flashing lights and loud noises of the city were giving him a headache that felt worse than any he remembered. No, scratch that - it was probably a migraine. Were cats even able to get migraines? 

Tony just wanted to lay down and _sleep_. He was exhausted and in pain and his entire body was aching and his head was pounding and _why couldn’t he just lay down and rest?_ He was considering his chances of being killed in his sleep if he decided to lay under a sidewalk bench when one of the hundreds of people he had passed suddenly decided to approach him.

Tony was wary - he wanted to run far away from the stranger. But he was too exhausted for that. The man approached slowly, crouching down in front of him and holding out a hand for him to sniff. At least he was considerate enough not to just grab him. 

Blinking up at the man’s face, he was shocked to find it was one that he had seen before. His silver streaked hair and styled goatee gave it away immediately. The “stranger” was Dr. Stephen Strange (hah). Tony had met him at a gala, or some other event Pepper had forced him to go to. He didn’t really remember what the event was about anymore, it was so long ago now.

Strange and himself had hit it off in seconds, both being experts in their field with a genius level intellect, egos as big as their fortune, and a lot of the same general mannerisms. They used to talk and get together often, but that was before Afghanistan. Stephen had tried contacting him after his return, but Tony drifted away from the doctor during his crusade to track down all of his weapons.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” Stephen murmured, tearing a cloth from the layered sleeve on his arm. Seriously, what was this guy’s outfit? It didn’t look like anything that people were wearing nowadays. 

He tilted his neck so that Stephen could clean the wound with the cloth. The action made the doctor frown at him in thought. His blue gaze was boring into him; it felt almost like he were being examined, like Strange could see through him to his bones. Like an x-ray, but on a much deeper level.

“You’re not a normal cat, are you?” Stephen asked him, though it came out as a murmur and Tony was sure that he expected no answer. But _this was his chance to at least try to tell somebody he wasn’t actually a cat._ Tony frantically nodded his head, despite the pain in his neck. This made the doctor recoil a bit. “Did you just… nod at me?” 

Tony nodded again. 

Strange looked shocked that a cat understood him, but he collected himself well. “I should, um… take you with me. To clean your wounds properly. Is that okay?” He asked, looking around as though he only just remember he was talking to a cat in the middle of a busy New York street surrounded by people looking at him funny.

Tony nodded once more, and Stephen gently lifted him into his arms to carry him back. It was uncomfortable and put painful pressure on the scratches in his flank, but he didn’t mind. Luckily, the place Strange was bringing him wasn’t too far away. He briefly noted the address of the building before he was carried inside - 177A Bleecker Street. It took a moment to register. How did he get _all the way_ to Greenwich Village from the Avengers tower? Well, at least he knew where he was now, and had somebody who he could talk to. Or more accurately, answer yes and no questions with. 

The inside of the building looked a bit like a museum, filled with various old artifacts displayed on tables and pedestals or mounted on the wall. What was Stephen strange doing here, of all places? The man was a neurosurgeon, not a museum curator. Sure, Tony had kind of stopped keeping up with his accomplishments in the news after Afghanistan, but surely the doctor couldn’t have fallen so low as to be working in a dusty old place like this?

Suddenly a bright red blur was barreling towards them, and everything went dark as a thick piece of fabric enveloped both him and the doctor. Panic flowed through him and he stiffened, claws shooting out to sink into Stephen’s arm, but the doctor didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. The fabric drew itself away a moment later, hovering in front of Stephen.

What..?

It was a cloak. But it was floating. It… _what?_

“Yes, I’m back, I’m back. Sorry for leaving without you,” Stephen said as he passed the cloak. The fabric positioned itself around his shoulders as he went. The doctor was talking. To a floating cloak. In a museum. 

What did he get himself into?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not expecting to get this chapter out this weekend, let alone today. But I have been sitting at the computer all day writing (and procrastinating on more important things, whoops) so yeah, new chapter is out! School is still super super busy for me, so I'm not sure how frequent future updates will be. I have time during my lunch period to work on writing, but it's noisy and the environment isn't ideal for writing. So we'll see, I guess?

Strange carried him to a back hallway away from most of the display cases and artifacts, into a small room containing a bed, several overflowing bookshelves so laden with books that the shelf part was warped and bending under their weight, a desk with a laptop and a broken watch that looked like it was once very expensive, and not very much else. The doctor set him carefully on the bed, then left the room and returned with bandages, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and a stick of wood.

Tony let Stephen set to work cleaning his wounds with the alcohol and cotton balls, doing his best not to sink his claws into the doctor when it stung.

The cloak had moved to the corner of the room as Stephen worked. It looked as though it were watching them. But then, it very well might have been, despite not having actual eyes. It was _floating_ and seemed to have a mind of it’s own, for goodness sake.

Stephen must have caught him staring down the cloak, because he said, “Don’t worry too much about that. It won’t hurt you unless you try something,” to him as he finished cleaning his wounds and the blood from his fur, and aligned the stick of wood with his broken paw and set about wrapping it in bandages. Tony gave him a quizzical look and tilted his head.

“It’s imbued with magic, the cloak chose me. It likes to protect me,” Strange told him. As if that would clear things up. Magic? Tony had enough of magic after Loki came around. How could this be any better? Stephen must have seen the distrustful look on his face.

“I don’t practice evil magic, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the doctor said, securing the bandage on his leg. He moved to part the fur on Tony’s neck and examine the missing chunk. “I am the master of this sanctum. There are three sanctums on earth, and we protect the world from other dimensional threats.”

He protected the world from what now?

“Hang on,” Stephen said, going to the shelf and skimming over the titles labeled on their spines. “You can understand me, so that means- you were human, right? Or something like it?” The doctor turned back to look at him. Tony nodded. “Then there should be a spell in one of these that will let me talk to you, at least through thoughts. That should make communication easier.”

Tony’s tail flew into the air and his ears perked forward. _Oh, finally! Finally finally finally!_ Stephen made an excited “ah!” sound as he found the right book, pulling it out and flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Raising his hands in front of him, the doctor looked over to him. “You’re okay with this?”

Tony nodded again. _Just get it over with, already!_

“Alright,” he muttered, and then started waving his hands through the air in intricate, sharp movements. Embers of sparking light appeared in the air, captivating Tony’s attention. He watched as the embers formed an abstract mandala of glowing squares and triangles and circles, all perfectly symmetrical. And as quickly as it happened, the shapes disappeared in a puff of light.

“Is this working? This spell is faulty, sometimes,” Stephen said, glancing down at him.

 _Well, can you hear me?_ Tony thought.

“Yes!” Stephen exclaimed, and then looked puzzled. “Your voice sounds familiar. Did I know you, or is that the spell using my memories to assign a voice to thoughts?”

 _Really? You don’t recognize my voice? Have you been living under a rock for the past few years?_ Tony said, letting sarcasm drip through.

“...Tony? Tony Stark?” Stephen gaped. “Why the hell are you a cat?”

 _Because I screwed something up,_ Tony grumbled. _I can’t fix it._

“Well… I can take you back to the Avenger’s tower. Surely the other Avenger’s noticed you’re missing? I can help explain this to them,” Stephen offered.

 _Well, for them, my human body is lying comatose on the medical floor. And even if we could convince them,_ Tony said, _I don’t want them to know. It’s humiliating! The fewer people who know I accidentally turned myself into a furball, the better._

“Tony, you can’t stay a cat forever…”

 _I… I know. But that doesn’t mean I won’t._ Tony growled.

“Let go of your pride, Stark,” Stephen said, though his voice didn’t sound condescending. It sounded more like… tired, half-par attempts to get him to see reason, while already knowing that the chances of succeeding were low. He knew it. Stephen didn’t want him around. Maybe it was because he stopped talking with him years ago. Tony had the urge to bring it up, though to do so would be to swim in dangerous waters. Emotions, ugh.

 _When did you get all humble?_ Tony asked instead.

“A lot of time has passed since we last spoke,” Stephen said.

Yep. He didn’t forgive him for that. Stephen didn’t want him around, he was certain.

 _I’m sorry,_ Tony tried, looking down at his bandaged paw. _I didn’t want to cut you off, it’s just, it was a difficult time for me after Afghanistan happened._ Wasn’t he trying to avoid talking about this? Dangerous waters. But he was swept up in the current, now.

Stephen sat next to him on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t blame you.”

 _How do you not blame me?_ Tony asked, looking up at Stephen. _I was an ass. I completely cut you out of my life. Along with almost everyone else…_

“I’ve dealt with magic and other dimensions long enough to know that sometimes, things happen that are out of anyone’s control. Terrorists certainly aren’t inter-dimensional beings, but I have a feeling that what happened to you happened for a reason. Just as what happened to me happened for a reason.

“I can’t imagine what might have happened over there, and I won’t pretend I can relate. It was probably very traumatic, and I get why you would want to isolate yourself from the press and other important figures after such an ordeal.” Stephen was staring down at his hands, running his fingers over the scarring that Tony only just realized was there. His hands were trembling, probably from severe nerve damage. That explained why he wasn’t a neurosurgeon anymore, at least.

“To be honest, I wasn’t around for very long after you came back,” Stephen continued, still staring at his hands. “I ended up in a car crash, my hands went straight through the display. Ended up in Nepal after blowing all my money trying to fix them.”

 _And?_ Tony tilted his head, gesturing for him to continue.

“Well… I found a place called Kamar Taj, where the Sorcerer Supreme taught me about the mystic arts,” Strange told him. “I learned, fought off a world eating demon, and now I’m here.”

 _Now, surely there’s more to it than that,_ Tony pushed. _I don’t have any memory of a world eating demon attacking the earth._ Never mind the fact that there was apparently magic and world eating demons that he didn’t even know about. The thought made a chill run down his spine.

Stephen told him everything. He told him about Mordo, and The Ancient One, and Wong, and Caecilius, and Dormammu. By the end of his story, Tony was simultaneously terrified of magic, and comfortable with it.

It was nearing two in the morning by the time Stephen finally laid back on the bed and fell asleep. Tony tried not to think anything of it when he curled up next to him in the crook of his arm.

 

* * *

 

“We need to tell someone on the Avengers team that you’re a cat, Tony,” Stephen said the next morning, folding his arms over his chest.

 _Fine!_ Tony grudgingly agreed. _But it has to be Bruce. I think I can trust him not to tell the others about this… And he is the mostly likely to be able to fix my machine. Just tell him to tell JARVIS to activate the KISKIS Protocol when we get there._

“KISKIS Protocol?” Stephen raised a quizzical brow.

 _Keep it secret, keep it safe. KISKIS. It’s a Lord of the Rings reference, okay?_ Tony said, tail swishing when he caught Stephen’s poorly concealed smirk. _Don’t mock my interests!_

“I’m not, I’m not,” Stephen chuckled. “It’s a good movie, good book.”

 _Damn right it is,_ Tony said, puffing out his chest. He stiffened when Stephen’s hands were suddenly under his belly, and he was scooped up into his arms. _Hey!_

“I’m sorry, but this is quicker than you walking to the car with that cast on,” Stephen said. Tony stopped struggling, but his ears were pressed to his head in annoyance.

 _I don’t like being manhandled,_ he huffed.

Strange just shook his head and chuckled, carrying him to a car and putting him down in the passenger seat. The doctor climbed into the driver’s side, and they were off a few minutes later. They were halfway to the tower when Tony remembered an all-important detail.

_Erm, Avenger’s Tower has a strict no-pet policy. You can’t really bring me in the front door._

Stephen thought about it for a minute. “Can you go back in the way you got out in the first place?”

 _Right… Sure,_ Tony replied. Hopefully those two alley cats weren’t there. He could walk on his broken paw with the cast, sort of, but if those two were there…

And of course, it was his luck that they _were_ there.

Stephen had gone in and was trying to talk his way past security. Tony limped around to the back of the building, only to be met by Scar and the green-eyed calico from the night before. The calico growled at him, arching her back in a threatening gesture.

 _Oh, not again…_ Tony muttered to himself.

 _What is it?_ Stephen’s voice in his head threw Tony off. He didn’t know this communication spell went both ways.

 _The strays are here,_ he answered back.

 _Hang on…_ Stephen told him, and before long, a loud pop of sparks went off right next to the cats, startling them both enough that they jumped up two feet in the air, and sent them scuttling down the alley when they were back on the ground.

 _Yeah, you better run!_ Tony thought as they fled. He could hear Stephen’s chuckling in his head. It was nice to have a sorcerer on his side. Tony managed to climb onto the dumpster and found the window to be open, the cleaning staff nowhere in sight. He crawled in, found his way up to his tower of boxes, and was in the vents within minutes.

 _Bruce is being called down to meet me,_ Stephen told him. _What do I tell him?_

 _Tell him it’s important, and that it’s about me and Ghost. As far as I know, nobody knows the name they chose for me, so that should get his attention._ Tony answered back. _I’m on my way up to my lab, tell him to bring you there._

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the vents, followed by a mumbled curse. Tony crouched low - or, as low as he could while still favoring his broken paw. He had to stifle a hiss of pain as he accidentally put pressure on it when he crawled towards the sound.

He found Clint, crouched low and rubbing his head. “Freakin’ low ceilings…” the archer was mumbling.

So that’s how Clint got around the tower without ever being seen. He should have known.

The archer looked up to find “Ghost” staring at him, head cocked to the side. For a minute, Clint and Tony both eyed each other in wary silence. Clint was the first to break it.

“Hey guys,” he called into a comms unit that Tony knew connected to JARVIS’s speakers. “I found the cat. He’s up in the vents, looking a bit beat up. Somebody put a cast on his leg.”

Tony could hear Bruce’s muffled voice come through the comms, but he couldn’t make out the words. Luckily, it seemed like Stephen was with Bruce at that moment, because the doctor’s voice sounded in his head. _Bruce looks suspicious, probably because I just mentioned Ghost. He told Clint to keep an eye on you._

 _I’ll figure out a way to ditch him, then._ Tony responded, limping past Clint.

“Hey, where are you going? Ghost!” Clint called from behind him, crawling to keep up. Tony ignored him, and instead made his way back the way he had come when he left the tower the night before. Eventually the sounds of Clint moving and breathing behind him got annoying, so Tony turned around to glare at him. The archer seemed unfazed, and had the audacity to scratch him behind the ears. He would have hissed if it didn’t feel so satisfying.

Tony dragged himself away and turned back towards his destination. He had to stop getting distracted!

“You seem to know where you’re going,” the archer mentioned after several minutes. Tony continued to ignore him, in favor of speeding up his pace once he caught sight of the bent ventilation grate. He poked his head out, pulling himself through the small space with his now throbbing paw. Ignoring the pain, he trotted off to find another grate. It would take Clint a few minutes to get the vent cover off back there.

It took him a surprisingly short amount of time to get back into the vents, and it wasn’t long before he popped into his lab to see Stephen trying to avoid Bruce’s interrogating. Clint’s voice could be heard over the speakers, announcing that he lost the cat again. Bruce glared at Stephen, looking more than a little suspicious.

Tony meowed loudly to announce his presence. Both men turned to look.

“What is it you need to tell me that is so important?” Bruce asked Stephen, scowling and glancing between him and Tony. “And what does it have to do with the cat?”

“Uhm, this is going to sound a bit weird,” Stephen started as Tony limped over to sit by his feet. “But that cat is Tony.”

Bruce was silent, glancing between Stephen and Tony. “I don’t believe you. Because I know exactly where Tony is now, and it isn’t in this room,” he deadpanned.

“Look, I told you, it sounds weird, but it’s true,” Stephen tried, “Tony’s body is in a coma, but his mind is in that cat!” Bruce stiffened at the mention of Tony in a coma. The information hadn’t been given to the public yet, and only the Avengers and trusted medical staff knew about it. “Tony himself _told_ me that, otherwise how would I know?”

“If you are Tony,” Bruce said, staring down at “Ghost” with a skeptical gaze, “Tell me something only I would know.”

Tony thought about it for awhile. He and Bruce weren’t _close_ close, but there was that one time after Loki when the Avengers had temporarily gone their separate ways, and Bruce went with him. _Tell him: The Le Méridien Hotel. We stayed there for one night since neither of us felt like getting on a plane to Malibu that night. We were both so stressed out and on edge from the battle against the Chitauri, we agreed to sleep together._

Stephen raised an eyebrow and smirked. _Oh, don’t give me that look. You know what I meant! It was only sleeping, and only to keep each other from having a panic attack in the middle of the night._

Stephen relayed the message, ignoring Bruce’s blush and glare at Tony.

“How are you two communicating?” He croaked, fighting off embarrassment. At least he looked convinced now that Ghost was, in fact, Tony.

“It’s a spell,” Stephen answered. Upon seeing Bruce’s expression, he added, “Look, it’s a lot to explain right now, but that part isn’t so important. You have to figure out how to transfer Tony’s consciousness back into his human body.”

Bruce nudged some of the machine bits still scattered on the floor with his boot. “I can try. Do you have blueprints for the machine you were making? Because this isn’t salvageable. We’ll have to make a new one.”

 _They’re sorted under the “experimental tech” folder, I think the files were called “Project Augendae.”_ Tony answered, and Stephen translated for Bruce. He gave Tony a quizzical look. Tony replied with the cat equivalent of a shrug, and hobbled over to the desk chair. Before he could attempt to jump, Stephen had scooped him up and placed him on the table. Stupid broken paw…

Bruce searched up the files, only for JARVIS to intervene. “I am sorry, Doctor Banner, but only Sir has approved access to these files.”

“Were you not listening to our entire conversation?” Bruce gave the AI’s nearest camera an incredulous look.

“I was, but without conclusive proof or having seen the original transference myself - which I didn’t, as what might have occurred was hidden from my cameras by the explosion - I cannot give you access.”

Bruce dragged his hands over his face and let out a long sigh. “JARVIS, please? Can you just trust us on this?”

“If you enter Sir’s alternate identification code, you will have access,” JARVIS replied hesitantly, bringing up a login box containing only a space for a password. Bruce looked at Tony expectantly. Tony brought his good paw to the keyboard, prepared to type in his pass code. Pressing the first key, three extra letters were typed into the box. Frustrated, Tony tried to press the backspace key, only to accidentally type in two backslashes and an equals symbol.

Bruce let out an amused chuckle. “Why don’t you just tell us what it is and let one of use type it in? You can always change it later, when we get you back into your body.” Tony sent a withering glare at Bruce, but complied.

 _It's InvincibleIronMan, no spaces, caps at the start of each word,_ he grumbled. _Don’t tell Bruce, just type it in. I’ll never hear the end of it if he knows that was my password…_ It was a good thing Strange was very much on his side, he decided, as the doctor merely tried to hide his amused smirk as he typed in the password. He was definitely making his next password just a jumble of encrypted letters and numbers. This entire situation was humiliating.

“Access granted. I am sorry for being skeptical, Sir, but I had to be certain.” His AI said, sounding sincere. Tony meowed at him in response. “Opening files for Project Augendae.”

“Why Augendae?” Bruce asked.

“It’s Latin for ‘enhance,’” JARVIS replied. “The main purpose of the project was to allow Sir to enhance his senses at will, to accommodate for less than ideal conditions without the Iron Man suit, whether in battle or otherwise.”

“Oh. Alright then!” Bruce clapped his hands together, the sound overly-excited in the relatively quiet room. “Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not really sure how the timeline goes in regards to Doctor Strange and the rest of the Avengers and MCU, so this is probably all completely out of whack, but oh well. Let's just pretend everything that happened with Doctor Strange happened sometime before the first Avengers movie, okay? Okay.


	6. Chapter 6

The entire day dragged on as Bruce and Stephen worked on replicating Tony’s machine. Tony offered guidance and tips where he could, but there wasn’t much he could do as a cat. Beside, the doctors had all of Tony’s notes and blueprints on the computer, and despite neither of them being engineers themselves, they both caught on surprisingly quickly. 

The sun had long since come and gone, and Bruce and Stephen had crashed on the couch after Tony cut them off from drinking more coffee - he had hissed at them whenever they approached the coffee pot. He would _not_ have them turning into him; going two, three, even four days on nothing but coffee, alcohol, and the occasional protein bar. It wasn’t healthy, and despite not being able to stop the routine himself, he wouldn’t let his friends do that to themselves.

Tony stared at the pair currently occupying the couch he kept in his lab. They both dozed peacefully in the small space, Bruce’s head slumping onto Stephen’s shoulder. The sorcerer’s magical floating cloak (when did it even get here? Stephen didn’t have it with him this morning) had arranged itself over them as a blanket. Tony had to admit, it was _kinda_ cute. 

Having not done much all day besides sit around the lab and give pointers to Bruce via Stephen, Tony wasn’t all that tired yet. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded being there for that long. Most likely would have hung around for several days. But being a cat was not a normal circumstance - he couldn’t _do_ anything, besides maybe push things off tables. The idea was oddly titillating, and suddenly he understood why there were so many cat videos on YouTube of cats pushing things off tables. 

Shoving the thought down, Tony took to the vents again. They were harder to navigate with one paw in a cast, as he couldn’t jump up large vertical shafts, but he could get to where he wanted to go with a few detours.

Limping his way through the vents, Tony eventually found himself in the ceiling above the main sitting room on the common floor. How to get down without making his paw worse was another matter. The grate near the ground on the medical floor might have been an option, but it was far enough away that the distance would aggravate the injury further. In hindsight, walking around so much in the first place might not have been a good idea. But trying to sleep in his lab while he wasn’t tired probably wouldn’t end well, either.

A scent struck his nose that smelt all too familiar - leather, ice, and that crappy old Captain America branded shampoo he had gotten as a joke. Steve actually _used_ that? Tony thought he would have thrown it away by now.

Said super soldier appeared under the vent, presumably pacing the room. Perfect! Steve was tall enough that he could reach the vent, provided he moved a chair and stood on it. Tony let out a loud meow to get Steve’s attention.

Steve turned his head to the vent, looking distracted. Tony had probably pulled him from his thoughts, he realized. Steve never really paced unless he was too absorbed in something in his own mind to realize his feet were actually moving of their own accord. Worry lines etched Steve’s face, making him appear more aged in the dimmed lights of the common room. Not nearly as aged as the soldier _actually_ was, but that was beside the point.

The only thing Tony could think of that might cause Steve such worry was Tony himself. But that was normally because Tony was being reckless and playing more-than-a-little-risky moves during a battle. Of course, Tony’s human body was in a coma at that moment and could do no such thing, so unless Bruce had told Steve at some point about his predicament - which he didn’t, Tony made sure to make it clear that he was _not_ to do that, and oh what an argument that was - then Steve could only really be worrying about Tony’s health. The idea that Steve was worried about whether or not Tony would recover was surprisingly heartwarming. 

“Ghost, what are you doing in there?” Steve asked him eventually. Tony just pawed at the ventilation grate and meowed. Steve sighed, muttering something about cats being more trouble than they’re worth as he shoved one of the lounge chairs under the vent and stood on it. Tony couldn’t help being _slightly_ offended at that. 

Grabbing the grate with strong hands, Steve tore the cover clean off the ceiling - how dare he! This was Tony’s building, damn it, and _he_ would have to pay for the damages! Granted, it wouldn't even put a dent in his wealth, but still. Tony was tempted to turn away from the soldier in spite when he reached up to grab him; but then he would probably be trapped in the vents until his paw stopped hurting, so he thought better of it. And he would still have to replace the vent cover anyway, so why not?

Steve grabbed him and lowered him to the ground, then shoved the chair back to it’s spot and sunk into it with a long, tired sigh. Tony sat on the coffee table and watched as Steve leaned his head back, content to ignore “Ghost” with his eyes closed and one leg bouncing up and down in the rapid fire speed characteristic of anxiousness. 

Most of his face was concealed in shadow, seeing as the lights of the sitting room were so dimmed they might as well have not been on at all. The soldier’s breathing was controlled, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm, but Tony could practically _feel_ the frayed ends of Steve's nerves. Under normal circumstances, Tony would have turned right around and left the soldier to his own devices to work out whatever tormented him on his own, because doing anything else meant he would most likely be guilt tripped into talking to him and it would be all _sappy_ and _emotional_ and that was really not his area.

Steve tensed when Tony jumped onto the arm of the chair and meowed, relaxing little when Tony stepped down onto his lap and curled up on his leg. The soldier still eyed Tony with an air of caution and unease.

“Come on, I'm not a fan of cats… why do you guys always want to bug me?” Steve muttered. Tony turned his head back to look at him, letting out a few chirping mews in response. Steve eventually started running a hand through his fur. “I guess you're alright. Can't be worse than the devil of a cat my aunt had.” 

“Although,” Steve continued after a pause, “I have no idea why you're here. Tony never had any time for pets.” 

_Had._ Never _had_ any time for pets. The past tense set off alarm bells in Tony’s head - did they think he was going to _die?_ Was his human body already dead, did he miss something while he and Bruce and Stephen were in his lab? But if there were changes Bruce would have been notified, he would have been alerted somehow. Was he overthinking it? He was probably overthinking it. Tony tended to do that a lot, or so Pepper told him.

Regardless, Tony couldn’t help but give Steve’s hand a nudge that he hoped was reassuring. _I’m not going anywhere,_ Tony thought towards him, even though he knew Steve couldn’t hear him. _I’m still right here._

Was this what being an actual ghost felt like? Unseen, unheard, disregarded, and all the while watching the people of his past worry over him and contemplate his death (or coma, in this case). It was actually kind of scary how fitting the name “Ghost,” was for him. Bruce had to be some kind of psychic, he decided. Nobody would tell him otherwise.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Steve said suddenly, his voice quiet. Tony could see the distress in his eyes, now. Did people really talk to animals about their problems? But, he supposed, if there was nobody else around to confide in… 

“They said that if he stays in the coma for longer than a week without change, they have to pull the plug. It’s written in Tony’s will, apparently. He doesn’t want to be alive, but not really _living_ , if doctors can’t help him,” Steve continued, drawing his hands up to his face and rubbing at his eyes. _Shit._ He’d forgotten he put that in his will. “It’s been three days already, and he isn’t showing any signs of change…”

 _Shit crap oh god oh no this is not good._ Would his body be able to sustain itself without medical intervention? And if it did, would they take more extreme measures to make sure they didn’t bury a body that was still alive? _Not good, not good, not good…_

“I can’t lose him,” Steve muttered, voice barely more than a whisper. “I just don’t _understand._ It was so sudden - he wasn’t attacked, he wasn’t poisoned. He was just… in his lab. I know things have changed since my time, but I don’t see how… I _can’t_ lose him like this. He’s my friend, he...” Steve let the sentence hang, and breathed out a sigh through his nose and groaned. He rubbed his temples as though he had a headache, eyes still closed and head leaning on the back of the chair. 

Tony had to shove down his own worry - he had four days to worry about that. But Steve… actually cared. And he was distraught.What was the cat version of a hug? He needed to give him a hug. Tony wasn’t normally a hugger, but this one time he might make an exception. If a cat could hug, anyway. If he could just… Steve blinked when Tony’s face appeared in front of his own, nudging the soldier’s cheek with his nose and purring. Unable to help it, a smile dawned on Steve’s face, and he scratched under Tony’s chin. 

For now, panicking about his situation could wait. With his and Stephen’s and Bruce’s minds combined, they could solve the problem in three days. But now, all he needed to do was be there to comfort Steve. It was the least he could do.

Tony spent the rest of the night in the sitting room with him, alternating between letting Steve pet him, playfully chasing his shoe strings, and eventually ending up curled into a ball on the chair next to Steve when the soldier finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still taking suggestions for things cat!Tony can do next, if you have any ideas :)
> 
> Also, I'd appreciate it if tell me if you find any glaring spelling or grammar errors. I currently have a really bad headache, and didn't have time to really look this chapter over since I wanted to get it out tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I meant to get this out Saturday, but I've been busy.
> 
> Also there's some implied past Stephen/Tony in here. I wanted to write about it more, but didn't have time :(

Tony flicked his ears and looked up at the sound of running. The plastic handle of the laundry basket - because yes, he fell asleep in a laundry basket, it was warm and clean, the staff could sue him later - blocked his sight, so he dragged himself to his feet. Bruce came jogging into the room, looking slightly panicked.

It was still dark outside and the lights were still dimmed, so either he slept far too long or not nearly long enough. Judging by how sluggish he felt, it was more likely the latter.

“Tony?” he called, freezing up when he saw Steve perched on the sofa. But the soldier was still asleep, so Bruce loosened up a bit. “Tony, you in here?” he called again, more quiet this time.

Tony meowed and stepped out of the basket. His fur stuck out every which way in a ragged fashion, mussed from his shifting while he slept. He couldn't help but lick it down. He might be a cat against his will, but the least he could do was keep himself looking good.

“Tony, I think we found out what went wrong with your device, but we need your help on a few things,” Bruce said, staring down at him. Tony leaned over his shoulder, licking down a tuft of fur on his back that still stood on end. He could hear Bruce impatiently shifting on his feet.

Tony eventually turned around and shook his head no in response.

“What do you mean, ‘no?’” Bruce groaned. “JARVIS told us about your will, we need you to help _now_. Who knows what might happen if they stop giving your human body life support?”

He was well aware of that, thank you very much.

Tony’s stomach growled, and he meowed at Bruce again. _You guys are really negligent pet owners,_ he thought to himself, knowing Stephen would hear it. _You know I can't get into the fridge in my own, right?_

No reply came, so he took it to mean Stephen was still sleeping. Sighing through his nose, Tony meowed again at Bruce and started padding to the kitchen. Sitting in front of the fridge, he counted down the seconds until -

Bruce let out a small gasp. “Oh! Tony, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry,” he whispered, rushing over to the fridge to pull food out. He settled on sliced ham, tearing the lunch meat into smaller bits and laying them on a plate.

Silence fell over the room as Tony ate.

“Will you come down when you finish eating? We really need some help,” Bruce eventually asked. “I can get JARVIS to operate the elevator for you.”

Tony paused and sat up, nodding. Bruce took that as an affirmative and turned to leave, but stopped halfway out of the room.

“We'll fix this. We’ll get you back to your body soon,” he said. Was that supposed to be assurance? While it was a nice gesture, Tony didn't have any doubts. Three genius minds were working on his problem, that was practically a guarantee of success. ...Wasn't it?

Bruce met his gaze for a split second before he left. Tony saw fear under the determination there.

 

* * *

 

Tony had only just finished eating when the slow and calculated sound of Natasha's footsteps came echoing into the common room. The assassin was dressed in Wonder Woman pajama pants and a white tee shirt, with fuzzy socks on her feet.

She looked like she'd just woken, her hair still sleep ruffled and slight bags under her eyes. Despite that, Natasha still managed to hold an air of alertness in her sharp eyes that Tony would never be able to manage, even with a proper amount of sleep and two cups of coffee in his system.

With Natasha here, Tony couldn't go down to his lab yet, because there was no way she would miss JARVIS opening the elevator for a cat, which is more than a little suspicious. Sighing, he watched her as she took out an Iron Man mug - that was _his_ mug, it had his face plastered on the front, how dare she - from a cabinet and poured herself some coffee. She leaned on the island next to him when it was finished brewing, holding the steaming mug in her hands close to her chest.

“SHIELD loves to wake me up for missions at the worst times,” she mentioned, looking at Tony. It seemed _everyone_ talked to animals when they didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Well, there was Steve in the next room, but his snoring was a bit of a deterrent. “I’ve got an hour before I have to leave this time though, so I guess they’re being nice to me tonight given the circumstances.”

Circumstances being the news of his impending death, he assumed. Why would Natasha Romanov need SHIELD to cut her slack for that, wasn’t she the ultimate, doesn’t-have-any-emotions-no-matter-what, top of the line agent? Natasha took a deep breath, breathing in the steam billowing off the mug.

Tony saw her shake as took another deep breath.

Was… was she _crying?_ Natasha Romanov did not cry. He had to be seeing things, he had to be wrong. Red-rimmed eyes stared down at Tony. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t completely crying, but she was pretty close to it. It was far more emotion than he had ever seen on her face, far more emotion than he thought she was even capable of.

“Three days left for him, once the sun comes up,” Natasha set the mug down and wiped at her eyes. Tony decided he _had to be_ hallucinating. Maybe they’d already taken him off life support, and he was slowly losing it as his human body died. That seemed more plausible than _this,_ but here he was, watching Natasha Romanov cry. Tony nudged her arm with his head and let out a chirping mew. It was all he could offer her in the way of comfort, because as selfish as it was, he would not let Bruce and Stephen let anyone else know that he had turned himself into a cat.

She ran a hand through his fur for a moment, but drew away and reclaimed the mug of coffee in her grip as she turned away, quietly padding back to her rooms to presumably ready herself for the mission SHIELD was sending her on. It was only after she was gone from his sight that Tony let himself even entertain the idea that she cared. Never in a million years had he thought he would ever see her so uncomposed, and vulnerable. That was the way she wanted it, he realized. If nobody ever saw that she cared, she could continue to pretend that she didn’t care at all.

Somewhere outside, an angry driver’s car horn blared loud enough to reach the common floor. The noise was enough to draw Tony back from his thoughts. He shoved them to the back of his mind to think about later - much, much later - and jumped down from the island in the kitchen. The elevator opened with a ding as he approached, and he meowed at JARVIS in thanks.

 

* * *

 

It had taken Tony, Bruce, and Stephen all of that day and the next to finally finish the prototype of the new machine. It didn’t look like much. In fact, it looked a bit like a pair of shining silver bracelets, one slightly smaller than the other. Stephen was turning the smaller one over in his hand, giving it one last once over.

 _Come on Stephen,_ Tony whined, impatient, _I’d really like to get back to my body soon. You know, before they decide to take it off life support._

“Alright, alright,” he answered, scowling at the metal in his hands. “Quit being impatient, we still have a day.”

 _I think I have the right to be impatient,_ Tony said. _Besides, it doesn’t matter how impatient I am. You know you still love me._ He purred and flicked his ears, trying his best to give the sorcerer whatever the cat equivalent was of an eyebrow wiggle.

“And that was a long time ago,” Stephen responded, but still grinned and ruffled his fur with one hand. “But yes, I still do. Somehow.”

 _Sorry about leaving,_ Tony found himself saying as Stephen slipped the small metal bracelet over his head like a collar. He knew Stephen would understand what he meant - not coming back to him after Afghanistan. They’d already talked about it, but they didn’t ever really _talk_ about it. It was complicated.

“Tony, it’s okay. We can discuss that later.” By later, he probably meant never. He wanted to protest, but found himself pushing it to the back of his mind. They had more important things to take care of. Bruce walked over from the desk, holding the larger metal ring and looking like he wanted to know what they were talking about, but not about to push them for it.

“Are we ready?” he asked. Tony and Stephen nodded in response. “Let’s go put this on your human body, then, and hope for the best.”

The elevator ride was spent in silence, Bruce and Stephen shoulder to shoulder and Tony seated patiently at their feet. Evening light shone through the blinds and into Tony’s room on the medical floor, competing with the glow of the arc reactor and setting the room in a greenish hue. Steve was seated in an armchair next to the bed, and looked up when Bruce and Stephen entered the room. His gaze immediately settled on Stephen, reminding Tony that nobody had actually told the team that Stephen was there, and Stephen hadn’t left his lab since he’d arrived.

“Who are you?” Steve asked, eyeing Strange like a threat. Only Tony noticed that the soldier shifted, ready to jump out of the chair.

“Stephen Strange. He’s a doctor,” Bruce said, “We need you to leave the room really quick so Dr. Strange can examine him.”

“I wasn’t told they were bringing another doctor in…” Steve glanced between Bruce and Stephen, then down at Tony’s body on the hospital bed.

“I know,” Bruce scratched the back of his head, acting the part of flustered and apologetic about not mentioning important thing. Tony wondered if it was all acting, or because Bruce was hiding that Tony was actually the cat currently sprawled out on the foot of the bed.

“It was a last minute call. But we really need some space in here,” he continued. Steve eventually nodded, standing and moving to pick up “Ghost” to bring him out of the room.

“Ah! No, uhm, Ghost can stay in here,” Stephen scrambled for words, trying to act like he _hadn’t_ just yelled.

“Won’t he be in the way?” Steve asked, suspicion returning to his hard blue eyes.

“Uh, no. He’s good moral support,” Strange said pathetically, scratching “Ghost” behind the ears. Bruce nodded in agreement, looking flustered. Steve didn’t look convinced, but left the room anyway, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

 _Real smooth,_ Tony commented. He smirked to himself when Stephen ignored him, instead placing the second bracelet around Tony’s body’s wrist.

“All right, they should be linked now,” Bruce thought aloud, “Hopefully there won’t be any problems with the mental transference, especially since this is not taking place through a contained device. It’s a possibility that if some of the calculations are wrong, your consciousness will just be flung off into empty space, and I _do not_ know how to fix that...” Bruce cast Tony a glance.

“Let’s just list everything that can go wrong, why don’t we?” Stephen snarked.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, not sounding sorry at all.

Tony approaching the wrist of his human body that was currently wearing the second half of the device.

“I guess… just press the button when you’re ready,” Stephen said, taking a step back. Bruce followed, leaning back against the far wall. That wasn’t a reassurance, but… it was the only way he would become human again.

Tony lifted up a paw, and pressed the button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be a short sort of intermission chapter that isn't in Tony's POV, so since it isn't going to be all that long, I'm hoping to get out 2 chapters by next Saturday.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the short chapter, in Bruce and Stephen's POV mostly.

Bruce and Stephen held their breath, even as Tony’s cat body flopped over limp on the mattress. Several tense minutes went by, the only sound the slow beeping of Tony’s heart monitor. But still, Tony’s eyes did not open.

“...Tony?” Bruce eventually asked, voice hesitant and overly loud in the quiet. Tony didn’t stir.

“Oh god. Did we just kill him? Is his mind, what did you say, “flung into empty space?” Stephen let out a small, hysterical chuckle. “No no no, he can’t be!” Strange leaned over the hospital bed, first checking Tony’s cat body, and then Tony himself. Blank eyes stared back at him when he lifted an eyelid to check for any response. 

Bruce grabbed a StarkPad from the side table, working quick and efficient to open up the project files and some type of brainwave scanner. Stephen could see panic blooming in his eyes, despite the calm collection of his actions. He tried to ignore that Bruce’s eyes were turning slightly _green._

Bruce finger’s flew over the screen in a flurry of motion, scans coming and going, occasional readings displayed in green numbers but most displayed in red. A constant mumbled stream of “no no no,” tumbled out of Bruce’s mouth, with orders spaced out in between telling Stephen to adjust certain settings on the machines Tony’s body was hooked up to. 

Steve reentered the room just in time to hear the StarkPad in Bruce’s hand start beeping wildly and flashing a bright red light, and to catch Bruce’s shouted curse. Alarm immediately crossed the soldier’s face.

“What’s going on?”

“Uhh,” Bruce tried, but his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water as he tried to find an explanation. 

“What did you do?” Steve demanded, glaring accusingly at Stephen and then back at the flashing red light.

“I tried to help him!” Stephen growled back, “It’s not like you were doing anything to try.”

Steve took several threatening steps closer, but Bruce stepped in front of him with his hands raised in a gesture to calm down. The StarkPad lay forgotten on the foot of the bed, alarm muted and red light flashing away without a care. “Steve! There's no need to punch your way through this.”

“I'm not certain about that,” the soldier spit out, but took a step back. Venom laced his voice. “What are you doing to Tony?”

“Steve, we need you to leave,” Bruce tried for calming, but found the words leaving his mouth sounding more threatening than reassuring. Defensiveness creeped into his tone. 

Steve clenched his fist. “Like hell.” 

“Rogers,” Stephen tried, “I am trying to _help,_ but we need space to work.” 

“Why don't you tell me what you're doing?” the soldier bit back, turning his glare on the sorcerer. 

“Oh shut up, all of you!” A familiar voice to their right shouted. 

“Tony!” Bruce beamed, Steve's anger forgotten. The billionaire had pulled himself into a sitting position on the bed, and had his hands pressed to his temples. The red light on the StarkPad had turned green when they weren't looking, and the charts and graphs monitoring Tony’s brainwave activity had lit up with a green outline as the numbers returned to a normal level. Bruce was at his side before he knew he had moved, pulling Tony into a relieved hug. “We thought we accidentally sealed your death warrant,” he said apologetically, loud enough for only Tony to hear. 

“For a minute, I thought you did, too,” Tony replied, squeezing his eyes closed. “Ow… I’m alright now, just got a bit of a headache. I think I might… lay down for a bit…” Tony sunk back on the pillows, closing his eyes and yawning. One of the medical staff finally bustled into the room, looking over the charts and eventually urging the three out of the room to let Tony sleep. 

The nurse picked up “Ghost’s” limp body, believing him to be asleep, and stuffed it into Bruce’s arms as he left the room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this chapter! My weekend was a lot busier than anticipated, I never got the time to write until super late at night, and by then I was too tired to focus for more than a few sentences. 
> 
> Anyways, there will be one more chapter after this one, and then it's a wrap. I have another part in the series being planned out right now, and another fic for my Fire and Ash series, for anyone reading that one.

“Welcome back, Sir,” JARVIS’s voice was smooth and gentle, waking Tony and drawing the exhaustion from his body.

Tony blinked open his eyes to the sight of an empty medical room. If he immediately looked at his hands to make sure he still had fingers, at least nobody was around to notice it. But for a reason he couldn't explain, his movements felt… disconnected. Tony could see that his arms moved when he told them too, but it was as if there were secondary nerves firing sluggishly after a delay, and it just felt _off._

Closing his eyes, he thought for a moment that he could see the waiting room just down the hall, and Stephen arguing with someone. Blinking rapidly, the image cleared and he was met once again with the sanitary white walls of the medical room. Not a minute later, the door opened, and a scientist and a sorcerer filed into his room. Bruce still held Ghost in his arms, the body completely limp.

Until it wasn't.

Tony raised a hand in greeting, and Ghost twitched in response, one paw swiping into the air.

“Uh,” Tony gaped, thoughts trapped in a “buffering, please wait” stage as his mind struggled to find something to form into words.

“Yeah…” Stephen said, glancing between Tony and Ghost. “It’s why we came back in. We thought it hadn't worked, we needed to check…”

“This is a bit not good,” Bruce mumbled to himself, watching as Tony furrowed his brows and lifted his hands in the air, then looking to Ghost as the feline body followed the action exactly. “Something definitely went wrong with the mental transference.”

“So… my mind is half in my body, and half in a cat’s body?” Tony asked slowly, scrambled brain finally catching up enough to put his thoughts into uncertain words

“It would seem so,” Bruce replied, grimacing. “I don't know where we went wrong, the device should have worked properly.” He fiddled with the silver collar around Ghost’s neck, opening a small panel and running his eyes over the LED lights and various wires as though he could find the solution by merely examining the inner workings of the device with his eyes alone.

“Well, this shouldn't get… in the way. Too much… I don't think?” Tony said. Some of the words we're drawn out, and he paused every few seconds. Tony looked between Bruce and Stephen, confused. “My thoughts… they're slower?”

“I guess that makes sense,” Bruce said, setting Ghost down on the bed and going over to one of the computers. He opened up the readings of Tony’s brain activity, watching the lines move across the screen. “Controlling two bodies is going to add a ton of extra difficulties for your brain. It's working double time, to keep both bodies actively functioning and alive.”

“Well, shit. Did you… tell Steve? He seemed,” Tony furrowed his brows as he thought for the word. “Angry?”

“We stalled him for a bit. Told him part of the truth,” Stephen answered. “He knows we came up with a solution to wake you up, but we didn’t tell him how we figured out what was wrong with you. Or that you were a cat.”

Tony nodded, flexing his fingers and watching as Ghost’s claws extended and retracted in time with his motions.

“Why can’t you just let them know?” Bruce turned to him. “It would make everything easier.”

“Humiliating,” Tony scowled, crossing his hands back over his stomach. Ghost’s paws stretched out in front of him, crossed in a similar fashion. “Just tell him… the explosion… damaged reactor.” He tapped on the arc reactor in his chest. Ghost’s paw moved in a patting motion in response, causing his claws to hook in the fabric of the sheets.

“I don’t know why I go along with your plans, sometimes,” Bruce rolled his eyes, turning back to the monitor and opening up several scans. “I told Steve to give us a few minutes before he came in to visit you. He’ll probably be here soon. JARVIS, can you transfer these readings to the private project files on Tony’s lab computer?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner,” JARVIS replied, adding afterwards, “Steve Rogers is currently in the elevator and approaching the medical floor.”

“Thanks, J,” Tony said.

Stephen and Bruce left a moment later, planning to return to his lab to attempt to figure out how to get Tony’s consciousness into _one_ body, preferably his human one. Tony pretended to be asleep when Steve came in to check on him, if only because he didn't want to be dragged into a long and exhausting conversation.

Once the medical staff declared him well enough to be discharged a few hours later - after he had JARVIS tamper with the brainscan readings enough that they looked normal, of course - Tony decided he would be much more useful in his lab, helping to fix his _situation._

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Tony stood - and promptly fell flat on his face.Ghost followed suit, slipping off the bed and landing in a heap on the floor.

Groaning, Tony propped himself on his elbows. Ghost crouched on his front paws.

“Damn it,” he mumbled to himself.

“You have to properly coordinate your movements with Ghost’s, Sir,” JARVIS offered, sounding amused.

“Can see that,” he huffed, getting back to his feet. Looking down, he found Ghost to be standing as well. Taking a hesitant step forward, he watched as the cat mirrored his movements until he was sure neither of them were unsteady. Nodding, Tony looked away and headed for the door.

Ghost missed the doorway by a foot, face slamming into the frame and jolting Tony enough to make him sway.

Right. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it? Sighing, Tony took a step back and turned to Ghost, reaching out to carry his other body. But when he took a step forward, Ghost took a step back. Tony narrowed his eyes, and tried again, only to be met with the same result. Frustration set to a simmer, he reached out again - but Ghost leaned away, following his movements exactly.

“Sir, I don’t think that attempting to grab the cat body will be effective. Dr. Strange left several hours ago, but shall I contact Dr. banner for you?” the AI asked. Tony glared at his nearest camera. He could practically hear the cheeky grin in the AI’s voice.

“No,” he huffed.

Changing tactics, Tony started for the door again, stopping to turn around once he was just outside the frame. He stepped sideways until Ghost was in front of the frame, then walked backwards to keep an eye on his feline counterpart as it reversed out of the room. Safely free of the doorframe, Tony turned again and started towards the elevator.

Ghost followed along behind, tripped over the carpet, and fell into the side of an armchair. Tony crashed to the floor with a yelp.

Sighing in defeat, Tony grumbled, “J, can you… get Bruce up here please?”

 

* * *

 

“Separating your consciousness any more might cause permanent damage,” Bruce told him as they walked into the lab. Ghost was held firmly in Bruce’s arms, squirming as his legs moved uselessly in time with Tony’s as he walked. “It's already making your thought process slower. I don't want that to worsen beyond repair.”

The statement hit Tony like a brick. He paused, looking down at his feet. There was no way he could lose his brain. Nope. That was unacceptable. He would fix this, and his thought process would return to being the best in the world, and he could go on with his life.

A niggling suspicion let uncertainty cloud his mind. What if, in trying to fix himself, he only sealed that terrible fate? What if the entire endeavor made him go all _Flowers For Algernon_ on himself, where he thought he got better, only for his brain to just slowly stop working?

“What is it?” Bruce drew him from his thoughts.

“Algernon?” Tony asked. It wasn't reassuring to himself that he found he could only respond to Bruce with one word.

Bruce looked lost for a moment, but he caught the reference quick enough. His face softened. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

“Can't be sure,” Tony said dejectedly, because it was the _truth_. There wasn't any way Bruce could promise him that, at least not until they had more data.

Silence met him, and the conversation dropped out of existence. There seemed to be a mutual understanding, one with the unspoken promise not to bring that subject up again. Talking about even the possibility of losing that ability to think, to _create,_ set Tony’s nerves on edge and pulled at Bruce’s heart. Tony’s intellect was one of the defining characteristics of who he was - to lose it would cause more grief than either of them dared to contemplate.

Instead, they set to work. Ghost was placed in a blanket-lined crate for his own protection - though Bruce made it clear that Tony was not to move around unless he really had to - while Bruce went about taking hooking electrodes to Tony’s scalp and preparing yet another an ECG scan. Tony could only sit still for about forty minutes, but it was better than not getting any readings from him at all.

They spent the next several hours pouring over the Project Augendae files, Tony particularly scouring the 3D models and the blueprints for the transference device that was currently around his wrist. Taking it off to look at the actual physical piece was a risk he didn’t want to take - for all he knew, his consciousness was relying on the link it provided - so he had to settle for the digital version.

Bruce decided it was finally time for a break when JARVIS spoke up, “Sir, Dr. Banner, Steve Rogers would like to talk to you both.”

“Busy,” Tony said as he wrote down some notes on a scrap of paper.

“Wait, Tony,” Bruce snatched the pencil from his fingers. Casting him a studious glare, Tony huffed and leaned back in his chair, setting the paper aside. “As far as Steve knows, you’ve been in a coma for a week. And as soon as you’ve woken up, you go straight back to your lab and lock yourself in? He won’t see that as healthy.”

“Dr. Banner is correct, Sir.” JARVIS butted in. “Rogers said, and I quote, ‘Tony can’t just lock himself down there again. He never _talks_ to anyone, and who knows what he’s working on? Who’s to say his next project won’t kill him this time?’”

“M’not killing myself,” Tony scowled. “Fixing.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Bruce pointed out, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You can’t leave him in the dark forever.”

“Sure I can,” Tony said in defiance.

“Tony, is it really so important to you that the rest of the team doesn’t hear about this?” Bruce asked him. “It’s only causing problems keeping it a secret, and the only thing it’s doing is keeping you from feeling a little embarrassed.”

Looking away from him, Tony crossed his arms. _A little embarrassed._ Hah! Natasha would kill him once she found out that she had let her guard down and cried in front of _Tony,_ of all people. Maybe she was comfortable enough with Clint to let her guard down, but she would never, ever have done so for Tony. _Stop making excuses for yourself,_ Tony berated himself. But he still couldn’t find it in him to tell the team. Maybe that was a weakness.

“I just want to… keep this between... us? Please?” he turned to Bruce, eyes pleading. The doctor stared at him for what felt like ages, probably trying to decide whether or not it was worth it. Eventually, he sighed in defeat.

“JARVIS, can you tell Steve that Tony is resting, and that I am keeping an eye on him?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner,” JARVIS replied. A few moments passed, and then, “He wants to know why Tony isn’t still in medical.”

“Tell him Tony was uncomfortable there.”

“He believes Tony would be more comfortable in his own bed than on the couch in the lab.”

“He wanted to be around his machines.”

Tony sat back and let Bruce do the talking - his own thoughts were a bit too slow still to keep up with the rapid-fire questions and answers. Bruce and JARVIS went back and forth a few more times, but Steve eventually must have given up and left with the promise that Tony would spend some time away from the lab at some point during the day.

They set back to work after JARVIS stopped relaying Steve’s questions, intent to work until nightfall.

It was nearing nine o’clock when they finally got their breakthrough - and in the end, it was only a few _loose wires_ that caused the problem. All they had to do was realign them, create a better bonding so the wires wouldn’t slip out of their sockets anymore, and then have Tony press the button on the bracelet again. It had been _so simple,_ it was hysterically infuriating.

“It’s good to be _properly_ back,” Tony said, stretching and watching as his cat body stayed perfectly still. Bruce smiled at seeing his friend so happy.

“I think we should probably go upstairs, before Steve sends Clint in through the vents.”

“Alright. Just,” Tony clapped both hands onto Bruce’s shoulders, and looked him in the eye. “Thank you.”

His voice was utterly sincere, and full of a fondness Bruce couldn’t describe.

“... You’re welcome.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, sweet, and funny chapter to finish this up! I can't believe it's done, I barely had enough time to balance out working on writing and working on my school work these past two months. Huzzah for abandoning my studying in favor of writing!

By the time Tony finally got back into his lab - because he wasn’t done with Project Augendae, this entire fiasco of _turning into_ a cat was just a distraction - everybody still at the tower except Tony and a small portion of staff, had gone to sleep. He slumped onto the couch, deciding a twenty minute power nap and a cup of coffee afterwards would give him the energy to work through the rest of the night.

Tony’s eyes were closed for barely a minute when his thoughts wandered back to the week’s events. How he had somehow managed to make something far different than originally intended, and everything he had seen as a cat. The team _cared_ about his well being, even if they were terrible at showing it.

It had actually been somewhat… fun to be a cat. Conversations wouldn’t end when he entered the room, and he could walk on the streets for more than five minutes - he didn’t remember most of that, but he remembered enough - without getting ambushed by the paparazzi. He was just starting to wonder if, just maybe, he could turn back every once in awhile when the darkness under his eyelids turned back into an image of his lab. Tony furrowed his brows. He was at least ninety percent sure he hadn’t opened his eyes, so why was he seeing his lab? And it was lower to the ground, at--

Cat height.

Tony’s eyes flew open, and he was back on the couch. A glance at Ghost showed the cat to be still sitting in the crate.Moving his arm had no effect, as the cat body stayed still as a statue.

Leaning back into the cushions, Tony closed his eyes again. Nothing happened, but he did have a niggling suspicion about what had caused it. Now, to test his theory. He thought of the cat again, imagined himself in the cat’s place - and suddenly he was looking through the eyes of Ghost.

Nap and coffee completely forgotten about by that point, Tony stood and approached the crate, crouching down next to it. Slowly, he moved his arm, the entire time imagining that the cat would move, too. And it _did._

“Hey J,” Tony said, not taking his eyes off Ghost. “Open up the Project Augendae files again, and prep for some scans.”

“All ready, Sir,” JARVIS replied a moment later.

“You know me so well,” Tony grinned. “We’ve got some tests to run.”

 

* * *

 

As the night dragged on, Tony worked, running test after test as he coordinated his and Ghost’s movements. He could move Ghost if he _wanted to,_ but could cut off the connection by simply not thinking about it. He started with keeping his and Ghost’s movements in sync. The cat walked beside him through the lab, stopping when he stopped letting his thoughts through, and catching up when he let them back in.

Eventually he started moving Ghost on his own - without moving his human body at all. He could _control_ his second body _with his mind_ without ever moving an inch. At one point, he was able to control Ghost well enough to make him grab a protein bar from a cabinet and bring it back to him, closing his eyes to see when his human body lost sight of his cat body.

The experiments shifted to trying to move both bodies at once, but making them do different things. That proved to be more difficult, and he only succeeded in making Ghost nod while Tony himself shook his head side to side. The attempt left him slightly dizzy, though that might have just been from his head - heads - moving in two different directions at the same time.

What once required great effort on his part to make the cat budge eventually became quicker, easier. It reached the stage of second nature by the time the sun started to rise, and Tony because well enough at moving them both at the same time as long as they were both performing a similar action.

It was nearing noon by the time he took the elevator back up to the common floor, looking haggard and worse for wear, but pleased with himself.

Steve wasn’t so pleased. But neither was Bruce, or Clint, or Natasha for that matter.

“Tony,” Steve began, “Were you down there working _all night?_ You said you’d get some sleep!”

Tony yawned in response, and was grateful to see that Jarvis had already turned on the coffee machine without needing to be told. None of the Avengers noticed the cat slipping by and perching itself of the counter behind them.

“Look, I just had to finish some stuff up. I took a nap,” Tony commented, looking bored.

“You just got out of medical,” Clint oh-so-helpfully pointed out to him from his place on top of a bookshelf, a plate of food balanced precariously on his knees.

“So?”

“ _So_ you shouldn’t be-” Steve took over for him, but was cut off by Bruce. The doctor finally noticed Ghost, perched at the counter with his tail flicking slightly.

“Oh my god,” Bruce looked between the cat and Tony, earning several confused and slightly worried glances. Bruce ignored them, gaze settling on Tony. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Tony?”

Smirking to himself, he followed Bruce down the hall and away from the wondering eyes of the team. “Yes?” he finally asked once they were out of earshot.

“How?” Bruce asked him, face completely serious.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Tony raised his brows, smiling innocently. This was fun!

“The _cat!_ Tony, how is it moving on it’s own? It doesn’t have a consciousness,” Bruce exclaimed.

“First of all, it does have a consciousness. Mine,” Tony began, closing his eyes and holding up a finger when Bruce opened his mouth to interject, “Secondly, I can control it because of this.” He tapped the sleek silver device around his wrist, eyes still closed. “What did you think I was doing all night?”

“You… you were teaching yourself how to _control two bodies?_ ”

“Of course!” Tony opened his eyes again, smirking.

Bruce blinked, running his hands through the mop of dark curls on his head. “Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?”

Just at that moment, the sound of Clint’s yelling sounded from down the hall as the archer shouted about a thief. Ghost came sprinting into the room, a dinosaur shaped chicken nugget clasped tightly in his teeth (because of _course_ he kept those in the kitchen, they were awesome.) Ghost flew under a chair just as Clint rounded the door frame.

“Where’d he go?” Clint barked out, eyes scanning the room for Ghost.

“He ran down there,” Tony pointed to a room at the far end of the hallway, innocent look plastered on his face. A grin took it’s place once the archer had left. Ghost reemerged from under the chair, climbed up Tony’s back, and perched on his shoulder as he scarfed the chicken down.

“Just… how are you _doing_ that? Never mind, I don’t want to know,” Bruce shook his head, groaning, “You better not do this type of stuff every day.”

Tony simply gave the doctor a frightful grin in response that said _oh he most certainly would._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ending sets things up rather perfectly for suggestions! What shenanigans do you guys want to see Tony get into with this newfound power of being two places at once? The next few stories in this series will probably one shots of funny little stories based off your suggestions, so I'm hoping for quite a few.


End file.
